


In Which Chuck Hansen Really, Really Hates Photographers

by intrikeyt



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chuck Lives, Fluff, I just want them all to be happy, It will rot your teeth, M/M, Mako is devious, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 04:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1212637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intrikeyt/pseuds/intrikeyt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well?” Raleigh asks with a smirk. “What do you say, you little brat? Wanna get hitched?”</p><p>“You’re not gonna get down on one knee, old man?” Chuck snipes back, because this is how they always will be. The kind of madly in love that means endless bickering, trading barbs and witty rejoinders, tenderness and affection reserved for the quiet, private moments, shared only with each other (and Mako and Herc, because their jobs are twisted like that).</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Chuck Hansen Really, Really Hates Photographers

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by this [lovely and absolutely adorable Chaleigh fanart](http://zeldalotus.tumblr.com/post/76354804258/i-just-gave-him-an-engagement-ring-so-i-hope-we) by [zeldalotus](http://zeladlotus.tumblr.com). Thank you for allowing me to write this, love! x
> 
> Towards the end, the fic shifts to Chuck's POV. I have limited to no knowledge of Australian slang, so please forgive any errors. If you point any out, I'd be happy to change it up. :)
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr at [thelightsabovearbys](http://thelightsabovearbys.tumblr.com) for more Pacific Rim flailing and fangirling!
> 
> Oh, and because I had way too much fun writing this fic (my first venture into the Pacific Rim fandom!), please see end notes for additional tidbits.
> 
> On to the story!

On the anniversary of the closing of the Breach, a memorial service is held in the Shatterdome. The empty bays where Cherno Alpha, Crimson Typhoon, Gipsy Danger, and Striker Eureka once stood are filled with mourners: officers festooned with medals, world leaders in expensive suits, media personnel, and, way in the back, the men and women who, a year ago, worked hand in hand to save the world.

The heroes of the Breach sit in places of honor, at the very front of the gathering. Right next to the enormous, black-draped portraits of Stacker Pentecost, Aleksis and Sasha Kaidanovsky, and the Wei Brothers. The press are going crazy snapping photos of them. Mako Mori is the very picture of sophisticated grace in the face of tragedy, clad in a modest black sheath dress and sensible heels. Hercules Hansen, Marshal of the Hong Kong Shatterdome, cuts a strong and stern figure, someone the world can rely on. But all eyes inevitably turn to the two handsome pilots sitting on either side of Miss Mori. Raleigh Becket and Chuck Hansen do not want to be here, and neither of them are making any attempt at hiding it.

“This is such bullshit,” Chuck mutters, as the Secretary-General of the UN gets up to make his speech. “Last year half of these arses wanted to shut us down.”

As if on cue, the Secretary-General intones, “I have always believed in the Jaeger Program, in Marshal Pentecost’s vision, in the Rangers that have given us hope,” which prompts an undignified snort from Chuck.

Mako pinches him discreetly. “Hush, you,” she chides. “You can complain later.”

“He’s right, you know,” Raleigh adds. “Doesn’t it seem just a little disrespectful to have them here? Speaking in Pentecost’s memory?”

A flash of pain in Mako’s eyes. The wounds are old, but they have not yet healed. “Yes,” she admits, softly. “Which is why _we_ must be here.” She gives them a tiny, tremulous smile.

There’s a moment of solemn silence, before Chuck hisses, “My suit is _itchy_.”

Raleigh grins widely, and Mako bites back a giggle. There’s a flurry of cameras flashing as the photographers capture the scene, while the journos murmur to each other, wondering what the pilots are laughing about. One of the UN aides glares at them, but dares not call their attention.

“I told you to buy a good one,” whispers Raleigh. “But you had to insist on renting.”

“Yeah, whatever, _Ra_ -leigh.”

At that, Herc leans over and fixes all three with a stern glare, rather like a father telling his children to behave. They exchange amused glances, then settle down for the rest of the Secretary-General’s incredibly boring speech.

\--

It’s been a year. Raleigh can hardly believe it.

If you’d told him, on the day of Operation Pitfall, that a year later he’d be here, alive and well and functioning, he’d have laughed in your face. He never expected to make it, never expected to open his eyes and once again lay eyes on Mako’s beautiful smile.

But more than that, he never expected Tendo’s voice, frantic from the pod’s speakers, telling them, “ _Guys, I’m tracking another pod--_ ”, Herc’s disbelieving audible intake of breath, followed by said pod surfacing not fifteen feet from them.

He and Mako exchanged wide-eyed looks and simultaneously dove into the water. Mako reached the pod first and helped Raleigh up onto it. Together they pried it open and were greeted with a litany of very creative cursing from Chuck Hansen, bruised and bloodied, with both legs broken and a few broken ribs, maybe suffering from internal bleeding, but _alive_ , gloriously alive, Stacker Pentecost’s last gift to them.

For the first time since their whole ordeal began, Mako burst into tears of joy.

“You’re alive,” she sobbed.

From the intercom came the sounds of the entire Shatterdome cheering, a loud crash as Herc collapsed on the ground and several people rushed to both help him up and embrace him, Max’s ecstatic barking.

And Raleigh?

There are no words for what happens next, but ‘big damn kiss’ come to mind.

It’s been a year since they saved the world. It’s been a year since Chuck cheated death.

It’s been a year since Stacker Pentecost added one more person to the long, long list of people who owed him their lives.

It’s been a year.

The Hong Kong Shatterdome has remained open, converted into a research and semi-paramilitary facility. Most of its crew have returned home, but several stayed on. Doctors, j-techs, marine biologists, geologists. Dr. Geiszler and Dr. Gottlieb. Mako, Raleigh, and Chuck, continuing Pentecost’s legacy. The Jaeger Academy in Kodiak has long since closed, but they work with the remaining cadets, training in the kwoon, running simulations. Lending help wherever they can.

It’s been a year, and they’re too wary to throw caution to the wind. Their findings so far are optimistic, and as the year goes on, some of them begin to think, _It’s really over._

It’s been a year since Raleigh seized his chance to be happy.

It’s been a year since they canceled the apocalypse, and if you’d told him that he’d be regularly kissing and sleeping with and murmuring hushed ‘I love yous’ into the sleep-warmed skin of one Ranger Charles Hansen, he’d have laughed in your face.

\--

Raleigh stands on one of the metal catwalks that surround the jaeger docking bay, the very same one where he and Mako ate lunch together, almost a lifetime ago. He looks down at the massive emptiness where Gipsy Danger once rested and feels a pang of sorrow. He does not regret sacrificing her to save the world. But he owes Gipsy. He has grown up with her, spent nearly all his adult life in the cockpit. She was the Drift and Yancy and memories of their family. She was pain and suffering and sudden emptiness, and then the soothing balm of a new presence, Mako’s presence, Mako’s memories, in his mind, healing the jagged edges left behind when Yancy died.

“I miss her, too.”

Mako appears at his side, bracing her elbows against the railing. She’s changed out of the black dress into her usual attire of cargo pants and a plain shirt, and she’s carrying two packed lunches. “Mess sent this for us,” she says, handing Raleigh an apple and a carton of milk. “Thought we might like to avoid the brass.”

“That’s very nice of them.”

Mako smiles. “They don’t much like them either.”

“What about Herc and Chuck?”

“Chuck took Max for a walk. The Marshal is playing nice.” She shakes her head ruefully. “Even after saving the world, we have to pander to the politicians. They’re discussing more funding,” she explains at Raleigh’s questioning glance. “The research division wants to send teams to the five deepest trenches in the world and gather data. Compare it to the information gathered from the Mariana. Dr. Gottlieb in particular is very vocal about this mission’s importance.”

“To check for another Breach opening, yeah,” says Raleigh, nodding. It’s a smart move. The last time humanity had assumed a kaiju would be the last, six months later Hundun rose from the ocean and caused untold destruction in a country was not ready for it. “Don’t tell me the UN doesn’t wanna back this.”

Mako nods. “They want to focus on cleanup.”

“Sweep everything under the rug, you mean,” says Raleigh, rolling his eyes. “Chuck’s right, this is a load of bullshit.”

“I am confident that Marshal Hansen will see everything through,” says Mako placidly.

Raleigh takes a moment to look at her. Her face is the same deceptively stoic mask she greeted him with when he first came to the Shatterdome, but they’ve Drifted, dammit, and Raleigh can read her like an open book. “Okay, I know you didn’t come find me just to talk PPDC business.”

A brilliant smile curls Mako’s lips. “Just like I know you didn’t really come up here because you missed Gipsy,” she says impishly.

“You scare me sometimes.”

“Want me to do it again?”

“If I say no, will that influence your decision any?”

“Not at all.” Mako finishes her sandwich and primly sets aside the wrappers. “It’s got something to do with Chuck,” she says, looking Raleigh up and down. “Normally, you two practically live out of each other’s pockets. If all you wanted was to reminisce about Gipsy, you would have brought Chuck up here, instead of giving him some flimsy excuse about needing alone time.”

Raleigh acknowledges this with a nod. She has a point.

“And considering how easily he fell for it, I may have to revise my opinion of his intelligence.”

Raleigh can’t help it. That last remark was just so purely _Chuck_ , albeit a bit wordier, that he has to laugh. “You’ve been spending too much time around each other,” he says.

Mako smirks. “All right, Mr. Becket. Out with it. What are you planning?”

Wordlessly, Raleigh reaches into his back pocket and shows Mako a black velvet box. Her jaw drops as he opens it to reveal a beautiful engagement ring.. “Don’t tell Chuck,” says Raleigh, smirking, as he hands Mako the box, “but the jeweler told me that that kind of diamond is called a princess cut.”

She lets out a most un-Mako-like snort. “He might say no, out of pure spite,” she replies.

“Nah, the makeup sex would be worth it.”

She shudders, and Raleigh laughs at her. They regularly Drift in the simulation Conn-Pods, and she’s constantly treated to his memories of the frankly _excellent_ sex he and Chuck have. He tries his best to keep those memories in the back of his mind, but Chuck is not overly sympathetic. “Imagine having to go through that with your _dad_ ,” is all he says.

Mako’s face softens, and a smile slowly curves her lips. “It’s a beautiful ring, Raleigh,” she says, snapping the box closed and handing it back. She’s quick to swipe a hand across her face, but Raleigh is quicker and catches sight of the welling tears in her eyes.

“Mako, are you crying?” he asks teasingly, tilting her chin up. With a laugh, she jerks her face out of his hand and lightly smacks him on the shoulder.

“Don’t make fun of me,” she chides. “I’m just--” She shakes her head and looks away, a rueful smile on her face. “Who would have thought we’d ever get here?” she asks. “The world isn’t going to end. We’re all alive. And…” She trails off, tilting her head to indicate the ring in Raleigh’s hands. “It’s more than I ever hoped for any of us.”

She closes her eyes, taking a moment to compose herself, before looking back at Raleigh. She takes his hands in hers and looks deep into his eyes. “I’m very, very happy for you. For the both of you.”

There aren’t many moments in Raleigh’s life when he can say he’s been overcome by emotion, but this is definitely one of them. He pockets the ring and pulls Mako into a tight hug, tucking her small body into the curve of his. The ghostly remnants of their bond thrum with her joy and approval, and Raleigh is so happy he can hardly breathe. He presses a soft, fond kiss to her forehead and whispers, “Thank you.”

“Does this mean Chuck is the bride?” Mako suddenly asks, smirking.

Wisely, Raleigh does not answer.

\--

The party is boring, and annoying, and an utter sack of kaiju shit.

Chuck hides on the sidelines, dressed to the nines in a tux his father practically had to wrestle him into. The Crowne Plaza’s grand ballroom is filled with dignitaries and world leaders and armed forces officers and other ponces in useless suits and gowns, and Chuck would honestly rather face down another Category V kaiju than mingle with these officious-looking arseholes.

The kaiju, at least, he could blast with a plasma cannon.

He knows he’s not alone in his thinking. Mako, in particular, thinks that a party--”To celebrate the day humanity _won_ ,” the pompous jerkoff higher-ups say--is in poor taste. But unlike Chuck, Mako is graceful and polite and respectful, and a dozen other things that make her perfect and lovely and the PPDC’s poster child, so she sweeps through the ballroom on Herc’s arm, in a gorgeous gown of dark blue lace and silk that perfectly sets off her porcelain skin and blue-streaked hair, shaking hands and bowing where needed.

It’s apparently a mistake to concentrate on Mako for overly long, because she’s so observant it’s almost like she’s got a third eye. Before Chuck can look away and pretend he wasn’t staring at her, she glances over her shoulder and makes eye contact. She makes a ‘wait for me’ gesture, and he mimes hanging himself in response.

It’s takes a while for Mako to extricate herself from the polite conversation she and Herc are involved with: a Japanese diplomat, his wife, and a wealthy Chinese businessman who, along with Pentecost’s extra-legal dealings with Hannibal Chau, provided the PPDC with additional funding. Herc looks pained at having to be left to his own devices, but Mako indicates Chuck with a tilt of her head, and he smirks and nods.

Odd.

“Hello, Chuck,” Mako says, coming up to him with a mischievous smile on her face. The first time Chuck ever saw that little shark-like grin, she had just thrashed Raleigh in the kwoon. It is not a promising sight. “You look wonderful.”

Chuck scowls down at his outfit. It’s a stupid white jacket with black lapels and a stupid white shirt and a stupid black bowtie that Herc picked out. What some would definitely consider nice duds, but Chuck’s never been the type of bloke to enjoy dressing up. He desperately needs his Striker Eureka bomber jacket, or a pair of combat boots. Anything to dress down this ridiculous monkey suit. “I look like a bleeding penguin,” he growls.

“I mean it. You look very handsome,” Mako says, honestly.

Chuck will deny it to his dying day, but he blushes at her praise. “You look pretty,” he offers, lamely, in return.

Mako giggles. “Thank you,” she says. “Why are you hiding here? There are many people who want to meet you.” She waggles her eyebrows. “They all want to rub elbows with the heroes of the Breach.”

Good _Lord_ but Chuck hates that phrase. “I’ll tell them where they can rub their elbows,” he mutters. “Where’s Rals at, anyway? Bugger promised me a dance.”

And there’s that beguiling little smile again. It makes Chuck feel like climbing into a jaeger for protection, because when Mako Mori wears that smile, _shit happens_. “He said he’ll be down soon,” she says innocently. “Wardrobe malfunction.”

Chuck’s eyebrows don’t fly off his face. It’s a close thing, though. “A wardrobe malfunction?” he repeats disbelievingly.

Mako shrugs. “He said to--”

But what Raleigh said, Chuck never finds out, because at that moment, they’re accosted by one of the event’s official photographers.

“How about a picture, Ranger Mori, Ranger Hansen?” he asks, holding up his camera. “Over there, by the window. It’s a lovely view of the bay.” Without waiting for a reply, his assistants usher Mako and Chuck over to said window.

Before Chuck can stomp away, Mako takes his arm in a viselike grip. “Be nice,” she hisses in his ear. “The UN people are watching.”

Chuck grits his teeth. He wants desperately to flip this photographer off, but a display of rudeness certainly won’t help their cause: that is, getting more funding. So he wraps an arm around Mako’s waist and forces out a smile at the camera, fantasizing about getting into Striker and crushing the annoying thing under 2,500 tons of metal.

“A couple more--there we go!” the photographer cries, looking at his camera with satisfaction. “But where is Ranger Becket? Could I get a couple shots with all three of you?”

Thankfully, Mako declines. “Maybe later, if you don’t mind,” she says, a polite smile affixed to her face. This one is her ‘I am much too well-mannered to curse at you in Japanese, sir, but rest assured I want to, very much’ smile. “Ranger Hansen owes me a dance.”

“Thank _God_ ,” says Chuck, with feeling, as Mako pulls him away. “I thought he’d never stop.”

“Well, like I said, you do look very dashing,” she replies sweetly. “Come. Keep me company until Raleigh gets here,” she adds, dragging Chuck onto the dance floor.

The orchestra is playing some waltz-y sounding melody. Chuck is not familiar with it, but apparently Mako is, because as they sway from side to side she’s humming along with the orchestra.

“You know this song?” he asks.

Mako smiles at him, a little sadly. “Sensei taught me how to dance,” she explains. “It was something from one of his favorite movies. ‘Never trust spiritual leader who doesn’t dance.’” At Chuck’s blank look, Mako raises an eyebrow and asks, “You’ve never seen _Karate Kid_?”

“No.”

“You poor man.”

They dance in silence for a while, eschewing the fancier moves that Mako knows how to do and settling for simple swaying. They make a striking looking couple, the PPDC’s two youngest jaeger pilots, he tall and broad-shouldered, she petite and dark-haired. The other photographers cannot resist and continue pointing their cameras at them.

No, seriously. _Fuck_ photographers.

Mako goads him into remaining on the dance floor by taunting him about photographic proof of his terrible dancing skills. Predictably, Chuck rises to the bait and allows Mako to lead him through the more complicated motions of what she tells him is a Viennese waltz.

And all the while, the cameras keep clicking.

It takes every inch of Chuck’s willpower not to give them all the finger.

The dance finally ends, and everyone stands around applauding the orchestra. Chuck ignores it all and glances impatiently at the entrance to the ballroom. _Where the fuck are you, Raleigh?_ he thinks, just a tad worried.

Okay, maybe _very_ worried.

“Be patient,” Mako suddenly whispers in his ear. “He’ll be here soon.” He whirls around to ask her what she means by that, but she’s already gone, gliding gracefully through the dispersing crowd.

“What the fuck?” he mutters to himself, because it’s barely twelve and already it’s been a long, long night.

Then, it happens.

As with most good things that have happened in Chuck’s life, this one begins with Max.

“Hey! Who let that dog in here?”

Chuck’s eyes widen comically as Max bounds out at him from the well-heeled crowd. He crouches down and intercepts the stout bulldog. “What’re you doing here, eh? Where’s your babysitter?” he says, giving Max a good rub between his ears. He and Herc left Max in the care of one of the mechanics back at the Shatterdome. God help her if she’d lost Max in a crowd or something. Although it’d be just like his smart little man to find him here, in a ballroom full of overdressed rich people.

“Come on, boy, let’s get you home,” he says. “Dad’s gonna be pissed,” he adds, hooking his fingers into Max’s collar in lieu of a lead. But as he does so, something is dislodged from the leather straps.

A small black box falls to the ground.

In future, Chuck will remember the moment he spots that box as a swooping sensation in his stomach, a sudden dizziness. Almost like the feeling he used to get when Striker’s Conn-Pods were dropped down the shaft onto the rest of her body. But for now, all he can say is this:

“Holy _shit_.”

He releases Max, who happily plops his fat arse on the ballroom floor and stares up at Chuck, tail wagging and tongue lolling. Slowly, Chuck reaches out trembling fingers to pick up the box. It feels so light in his hand, almost weightless, the velvet smooth and fuzzy under his fingers.

Suddenly, Chuck’s aware that he has an audience. Despite that one person’s protest about Max’s presence in the ballroom, the rest of the partygoers have suddenly become aware that something seems to be happening. Embarrassingly enough, even the orchestra has stopped playing.

People have cleared a small circle of space around Chuck and Max, intently watching him with expectant grins on their faces. In the distance, several flashbulbs go off, telling Chuck that the photographers are at it _again_.

He wildly glances around, looking for a familiar face. Mako and Herc are standing together on the fringes of the crowd, the latter looking proud and paternal (with just a hint of exasperation thrown in), the former wearing that familiar shit-eating smile. “Open it!” she mouths.

Chuck is not afraid, he is _not_. He’s stared certain death in the face so many times (eleven times, eleven kills, a fucking record-breaker, thank you very much). He’s gone on a suicide mission and faced the mouth of hell under a million fucking tonnes of water. He’s looked at the beasts climbing out of the pit, and he’s shoved them right back in.

A little black box, no bigger than the palm of his hand, is not going to be his undoing.

“Holy shit,” Chuck says again, louder. The surrounding crowd laughs. He looks up and scowls at everyone and, like trained lapdogs, they all fall silent.

 _Get it together, Hansen,_ he tells himself, then flips open the box.

The ring is nothing fancy. A simple platinum band, with a small square diamond set into a narrow groove on the top. It’s beautiful, almost ethereal in its simplicity.

Chuck is so absorbed in staring at the ring that he doesn’t register Max’s enthusiastic barking, which is only reserved for someone he knows. It’s not until Raleigh’s right in front of him, taking the box and tilting his face upward with a finger under his chin, that Chuck realizes what’s going on.

“Nothing to say?” Raleigh asks, a smug smile playing on his lips. It might just be the side effects of the Drift, but that smile looks remarkably like Mako’s. Damn them both. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, I suppose.”

“Fuck you,” Chuck snaps, because even when it feels like Raleigh’s got his heart in his hands, he has to be an annoying little punk.  

“Not in front of all these people.”

Chuck blames his fair skin and freckles for how easily he blushes. “Shut up.”

Raleigh laughs. It’s the one where he tilts his head back just a bit, the one that makes Chuck want to lick and kiss his way up the long column of his throat. “Well?” Raleigh asks with a smirk. “What do you say, you little brat? Wanna get hitched?”

“You’re not gonna get down on one knee, old man?” Chuck snipes back, because this is how they always will be. The kind of madly in love that means endless bickering, trading barbs and witty rejoinders, tenderness and affection reserved for the quiet, private moments, shared only with each other (and Mako and Herc, because their jobs are twisted like that).

Raleigh raises an eyebrow.

Chuck swallows nervously.

What feels like the whole world leans in, awaiting an answer.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” mutters Chuck. He grabs the ring and slips it onto his left ring finger. “Of course I’ll marry you, you bloody great wanker,” he says, giving Raleigh a smarmy, overconfident grin.

The whole ballroom bursts into applause.

Mako, in a moment of childlike glee, jumps up and down in her heels, clapping her hands as tears stream down her cheeks. Herc is shaking his head, looking torn between laughing and rolling his eyes. Around Chuck and Raleigh’s feet, Max happily gamboles, clearly unaware of why everyone is cheering but joining in on the festivities anyway.

Chuck does not notice, because Raleigh has pulled him into his arms and is giving him the longest, deepest, most passionate kiss of his life. It feels like fire, like electricity leaping all across his skin. Everything else disappears. There is only Raleigh’s arms, holding him in place, Raleigh’s lips on his own, and the solid, warm weight of the ring on his finger that reminds him that this? This is going to be _forever_.

The moment is perfect, but because photographers are great honking _arseholes_ , more flashbulbs go off, and that one bugger from earlier is yelling out, “Go on Chuck, show us the ring!”

Chuck’s had just about enough.

Without breaking the kiss, he raises up his left ring finger and shows it to the gaggle of photographers, in an amusing approximation of flipping them all the bird.

That particular photograph ends up on newspapers all over the world. Herc is not amused. But Chuck is very pleased with himself, and ends up keeping a framed copy of the picture.

**Author's Note:**

> Additional tidbits, as promised.
> 
> Mako's dress [here](http://25.media.tumblr.com/42cd69e489667f029283c417236e86f8/tumblr_n0lft01nOy1tro58oo3_1280.jpg).
> 
> Chuck's tux [here](http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/ca/ee/f7/caeef77a95ff9e3a6b5a270a915b572a.jpg).
> 
> It's not described in the story, but [this](http://images5.fanpop.com/image/photos/28600000/Charlie-Hunnam-charlie-hunnam-28645781-1000-1333.jpg) is what I imagined Raleigh wearing.
> 
> The [music](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yHYaWbMYCv8) Mako and Chuck danced to (a Viennese waltz orchestral version of 'Once Upon a December').
> 
> And last but not least, [the ring](https://www.novori.com/images/grooved-mens-diamond-band-l.jpg)!


End file.
